Cäravel Arael'avae
Name Real Name: Lolviir Calduil Arael’avae Trélynnir Known As: Cäravel Arael'avae. His first name (pronounced “CAY-RAH-vell”) is the name of an ancient Elven hero who gave his life defending the forest from being burned by Orcs. His last name (pronounced “ar-AY-el-AH-vay”) means “Heart of Joy”. IC Information Current Age: 154 Attitude: Appearance: A tall Wild Elf just shy of six feet who holds himself proudly and moves with the silent grace of his people. His green eyes are animated and almost always seem to be dancing with mirth – even when the rest of his face is not. One might call him beautiful if not for the three parallel scars gouged into his left cheek which trace their way from his temple down to the corner of his mouth, the large chunk missing from his left ear, the burns and slashed scars covering most of his left arm and the left side of his chest, back, and shoulder, and the fact that the two smallest fingers on his left hand are missing. His voice is a rough baritone, unusual for an elf in both it’s slightly gravely quality and low pitch. Appearance, Part II (Equipment worn): Cäravel dresses typically for a Wild Elf - scarcely and mostly in hides of animals who have died of old age. The quiver on his back is usually supported by a tan cloth sash that runs from one shoulder, wraps around his waist, then goes up to his other shoulder. His rapier's sheath is also tied to this with a simple sinew cord. His pants are dark green and of worn velvet - plundered from an N'Tel'Quessir corpse. They are cut off just above the knee and are worn tucked into his boots. Those tall boots are made of wolf hide and dyed brown flecked with green to blend with the forest floor. The hide has been treated in both a mundane way which makes the boots quite water-resistant, and so perfect for crossing streams or simply walking about in the morning dew, and in a magical way, hardening them while maintaining their flexibility. The bottoms are stitched with an extra layer of hide, covered in the animal’s soft down, which makes them much quieter and even more water-resistant than the rest. To fight he uses an Elven-made oak longbow whenever he can, preferring to fight strategically. When he is forced to close with an enemy, he uses a rapier he took form the corpse of a bandit he killed. Character's Religious Dogma: Cäravel devoutly worships the Seldarine, venerating Rillifane Rallathil and Corellon Larethian near-equally, though Rillifane is his patron. However, his tribe's religion drifted from that of most Elves in their solitude, and a few of the Seldarine were forgotten or neglected. Those are: Deep Sashelas - God of knowledge and Sea Elves, neither of which were relevant to the clan. Erevan Ilesere - God of rogues and change, also not relevant to the tribe, for they had no thievery and avoided change at all costs. Sehanine Moonbow - God of Moon Elves. She was neglected, but not forgotten, for the tribal elders asked for her aid in their attempts at astrological divinations. A few members of the Seldarine, though, were revered more highly. Those are: Angharradh Fenmarel Mestarine Solonor Thelandira Rillifane, patron of Wild Elves, was worshipped to a typical extent for Wild Elves, coming just before Corellon Larethian in importance, both of whom were far above any others, with Fenmarel Mestarine coming next. Common Statistics Race: Wild Elf Height: 5 ft. 10 in. Weight: 131 lbs. Skin Tone: Dark brown Eyes: Green Hair: Dark brown with a slight auburn tint and quite shaggy Left Handed or Right Handed: Right-handed Favored Weapons: He uses an Elven-made oak longbow whenever he can, preferring to fight strategically - he often climbs a tree and waits for his quarry to come to him, then dispatches them while hidden in the foliage. When he is forced to close with an enemy, he uses a rapier. Currently a blade he took from a bandit he killed. Accent: He speaks with an odd accent - a mix of a very obscure accent unknown even to other Wild Elves and the cultured speech of an educated Elf. Commonly-Spoken languages: Elven. He can speak Sylvan and Animal very well, but few others can. He is learning both Common and Chondathan, but very slowly. Recognizable Features: The scars and burns on his left arm, left side of his chest, shoulder, and back, his two missing fingers, and the three parallel scars on his left cheek. Relatives: Backstory: Cäravel was raised amongst a small clan of just over three dozen loosely-related Sy’Tel’Quessir living in treetops in the North of the Cormanthor; the clan of Trélynnir. He was born Lolviir Arael’avae to Lolviir Valantiir and Amnérae Essaril. He was their only child and was raised by the whole clan, in their tradition, mimicking the society of wolves. The males – rangers and called forestwalkers – taught him to hunt, track, and survive in the forest, and the females – druids called treespeakers, with one multiclassed bard/druid talekeeper – taught him the clan’s history and songs, and how to handle and communicate with animals. His early life was fairly uneventful, the only notable things being the discovery of his sexual orientation and subsequent “teenage” angst, and his choice to follow in his mother’s footsteps and become the clan’s next talekeeper – the only time that it was acceptable for a male was to deviate from the role of hunter, tracker, and craftsman. The talekeeper did not simply memorize the clan’s history and tales (many in Sylvan, out of tradition), but also acted as a sort of counsellor to any of the tribe who wished advice, and their oaths forbade them to repeat any of what was said to them while they were acting as such. When he was 73 and his mother had just retired due to illness, making him the too-young songkeeper, a tribe of Orcs forced down from the north came crashing through the Cormanthor. The treespeakers were out healing a blighted grove north of the clan’s treetop village and so the Orcs came across them meditating and helpless. After they were slaughtered the Orcs continued south to the clan’s grove which, when the few forestwalkers not out patrolling (most of whom had already been killed) fired on them from the treetops, they burned to the ground. The survivors came down from the burning trees and the young, old, and infirm (including Cäravel’s mother) tried to flee while those who could fight (including Cäravel) did so, futilely, in order to buy time. The Orcs, however, had the grove surrounded, and the non-combatants ran straight into the spears and javelins of more Orcs. The remaining defenders were now surrounded and about to perish to an unbroken horde of Orcs when the forestwalkers who had been patrolling to the south, southeast, and southwest (including Cäravel’s father) returned. The fresh elves were able to surround the Orcs surrounding the nearly-beaten defenders, so turning the tables on the rocs and making them the ones surrounded. Regardless, there were too many Orcs to defeat, and almost all of the tribe died, with the few survivors all dying amidst and beneath the corpses of their kin as the Orcs slowly climbed and felled the trees and took the few belongings of the dead clan. Cäravel awoke two days later – luckily, a strong rain had put out the fire after the night of the massacre, though it still smoldered. He listened, and heard only two Orcs speaking in their rough tongue. As he waited for them to leave, he noted his injuries – his whole left arm and shoulder, and most of the left side of his torso hurt so much he could barely keep from crying out. There was something sticking out of his back, and the two smallest fingers on his left hand were almost definitely missing – they had cut them off to get his songkeeper’s ring. He passed out again, and awoke another day later. He pulled the broken longbow from his back and crawled into the hut of his felled tree, salvaging healing supplies to treat his serious burns and many other injuries, though there was nothing he could do to heal his once-beautiful tenor voice, which had been made low and gravely by the smoke, and the wounds would never be healed fully, leaving him badly scarred and experiencing pain at random points to this day. He crawled out and camped by a stream just beyond his burned grove. After a week he was well enough to travel and had buried the bodies of his people, but he did not leave, living there for almost a year. Eventually he finally brought himself to leave what had been his home, and began to wander the Cormanthor aimlessly, with his songs and thoughts for company for many years. He found that his new voice, while unusual, could be made to sound beautiful and haunting if he used it right, and also that it sounded like another person – a companion, so he conversed with his voice much. In those years, he strengthened his bond with the forest and it’s denizens, and, instead of growing more feral, actually grew less so, as his thoughts were all he had to occupy him. When N’Tel’Quessir wandered by, he hid and listened, sometimes stalking them for days. In this manner, he learned to speak Common and Chondathan to some small extent. When he was 151, he came upon a forest fire, with a burning litter of wolf pups trapped in the midst of it. He ran into the blaze and managed to rescue all four of them, and began nursing them back to fitness. He also came upon their dead parents – they had been killed by human hunters, who had obviously caused of the blaze. In the days that followed, three of the pups died from burns and inhaling too much smoke. The remaining one had a lightly burned hind right leg and a rough voice. As Cäravel also found out, he howled not at the moon, but at the brightest star, and so he named the pup Olkiir – “Star”. He and Olkiir travelled together about the Cormanthor, and eventually made their way to the area in which they wander now. Lonely, bored, and seeking to make a difference, Cäravel broke his solitude and approached the alien N’Tel’Quess town cautiously. (OOC) Information Time spent in Myth Drannor: Since May of 2008. Playing Status: Active. Current Character Level: 14 - Bard: 7/Druid: 7 Current Character Alignment: Neutral Good Perfect Alignment Title: Category:PC